Kathleen’s eyes drooped and she drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Marise woke slowly, the kind of waking where the world didn’t rush back but dripped in, quiet and warm. The room was still dim, the faint light of morning pushing through the window slats in slender streaks. She didn’t want to move, not with Kathleen draped across her, one leg slung over Marise’s thigh, her hand curled against her collarbone, breath soft against her neck.
It was absurdly domestic and intimate. Too dangerous, but she didn’t care.
She stared at the ceiling, unsure when the shift had happened—when the job had blurred into something messier. She’d planned to study her, manipulate her if she had to. Kathleen had sidestepped every calculated move, meeting her with trust.
And now she was here, her heart beating against Kathleen and the thought of leaving her when this was over felt unbearable.
When Kathleen stirred slightly and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, Marise’s arm tightened around her.
She hadn’t made allowances for these feelings, moving through her shady world with clear lines: assignments, objectives, exits. But nothing about Kathleen had followed theplan. She wasn’t some mark any more. She was reticent, brilliant, and honest in a way Marise had never let herself be.
Kathleen shifted again, her hand sliding along Marise’s chest, fingers dragging sleepily across the bare skin above the low neck-line. A faint sigh escaped her lips.
“You’re awake,” Marise murmured.
Kathleen didn’t answer right away. She simply hummed and let her fingers trail lower, across the flat of Marise’s stomach. “Mmm. I was having a dream,” she whispered.
“What about?”
Kathleen raised her head slightly, her hair falling over her shoulder in a loose wave. Her eyes were still hazy with sleep, but her mouth curved in a slow, timid smile. “The kind I didn’t want to wake up from.”
Marise caught her hand and their fingers tangled, and something about that felt more dangerous than any situation she’d been in.
Kathleen shifted closer, her breath warm against Marise’s collarbone. Her hand slid tentatively over her ribcage, almost like she was following a map in braille, slowly and full of wonder.
Marise pulled off her t-shirt, letting her explore.
Kathleen’s fingers trembled a little, but they kept moving, trailing down her side, brushing the curve of her waist as if it astonished her that she was allowed to do it. She leaned in and kissed the top of Marise’s shoulder—soft, uncertain. Then paused, like she was taking stock of the sensation. “I didn’t think I’d like touching someone like this,” she murmured.
Marise’s throat tightened. “Do you?”
Kathleen nodded against her skin. “Yes. Very much.”
Her voice was so quiet, it almost didn’t carry. Her hands were growing bolder, still careful, but not hesitant now. She cupped Marise’s hip like she was memorizing it, then smoothedher palm back over her stomach, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“I keep waiting for it to feel wrong,” she said, “but it doesn’t. I feel… like I want to keep touching you.”
Marise exhaled slowly. “Then do.”
That earned her the faintest upward curve of Kathleen’s mouth—not quite a smile, but something close. Her eyes stayed fixed on where her hand rested, as if she couldn’t believe it was hers. She kissed Marise again, this time on the jaw, then ghosted her lips down her neck.
Her movements weren’t practiced, but real in a way Marise hadn’t known with other lovers. There was no game here, no seduction, just Kathleen’s body warming to trust and wonder, and Marise opening herself to be wanted that way.
It made everything feel new again. Her body responded like it never had before; each touch sent a shiver through her and a tingle between her legs. When Kathleen took a nipple in her mouth, Marise caught a ragged breath. Kathleen lightly massaged her breasts for a while, then hesitated briefly before she trailed her fingers over her hips and began stroking her inner thigh.
Moaning, Marise involuntarily pushed her hips forward. Dismayed by her loss of control, she tried to reign in her growing desire, but heard herself plead, “Kathleen, I’m begging you?—”
“Begging me for what?” Kathleen asked, studying her intently. “To stop?”
“Fuck no,” Marise burst out, ashamed by the extent of her arousal.
Marise started the slow trail again, this time reaching her outer lips. She brushed her mouth over Marise’s ear and whispered, “Do you want me?”
Fire pulsed through Marise’s sex. “I want you so badly,” she croaked out. “I want you more thananything!”
